


you don't know how i fuck

by bgaydocrimes, PatsyDecline



Category: Dead To Me (TV)
Genre: Dead Steve, Drunk Sex, F/F, F/M, Hetero Sex, Love Confessions, if you call thinking about your best friend while you fuck her ex hetero, maybe super slight dubcon at one point if you squint, now featuring a very gay chapter 2, takes place at the end of S1, the gayest straight sex ever, we were ovulating, we're so sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:14:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26664271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bgaydocrimes/pseuds/bgaydocrimes, https://archiveofourown.org/users/PatsyDecline/pseuds/PatsyDecline
Summary: She’s more turned on than she’s ever been and now is certainly not the time to examine too closely why the fuck that is, but the creeping sense of shame burns hot inside her. Instead she leans into it, bends over further, chases the heat that’s building at the thought of Judy bent over like this and begging.If you're put off by the Jen/Steve tag, you can read Chapter Two as a standalone and it's gay af.
Relationships: Jen Harding/Steve Wood, Judy Hale/Jen Harding
Comments: 35
Kudos: 87





	1. Chapter 1

_ I don't wanna talk about Judy right now. I wanna talk about you. And I want to talk about what I want to do for you. Well, I mean, for us, really. _

_ I gotta admit, I have- I have thought about this.  _

Jen was going to pretend she had no idea what Steve was talking about. This isn’t the first time that an entitled man has been alone with her in an expensive property and seen an opportunity. It isn't even the first time this month. And she’s a pro at brushing it off; no harm no foul, no bruised ego that could risk a sale.

She really was going to pretend, but recently she’s been getting increasingly frustrated with Judy’s excessive pining over Steve. He’s charming but a bit of an asshole, yet Judy kept going back to him up until a week ago when she thought she was pregnant and found him with  _ Heidi _ . 

What  _ was _ it about him? What had her so ready to move in with him and fuck Jen’s commission over? Why could she so easily jump back in his bed and want to move out of Jen’s guesthouse, their home?

So instead of pretending, Jen plays along. Maybe this is one of those little games that you need to participate in to understand, to learn the rules as you go along because from outside, it looks utterly bewildering. So yeah, if Steve’s thought about it, she’ll seize the opportunity. 

“Thought about what, us?”

“Well, yeah,” Steve laughs. “But look, I’m seeing someone now. Unless…”   
  
Jen narrows her eyes at him and maybe someone less sure of themselves would have backed off, but not Steve. 

“Well I don't know - it could be like a one time thing?” Steve shrugs, suggesting infidelity like he would a restaurant for lunch. Sure. 

She feels another stab of anger at Judy’s willingness to drop everything for this man. Jesus. How many times did he cheat on her while she suffered trying to make a family for them? Why is this rich, international playboy schtick working for him?

“Hmm, you'll need to work a little harder than that." Jen responds without really thinking, and she’s annoyed to find she’s actually considering the proposition. Sixteen years of mediocre sex followed by two years of unintentional celibacy will do that to a woman, apparently. 

“I can be very discreet.” He takes a step closer to her now and places a hand on her hip.

It’s weird and possessive but god, it’s been so long since she’s had a one night stand. She hates that she’s considering one with Steve fucking Wood. It’s disgusting; he’s the walking embodiment of the gross patriarchal privilege she detests but for some reason she finds herself attracted to him. Or maybe she’s just attracted to orgasms and flattered that he’s into her after so long without getting laid? 

His hand squeezes at her side where it rests and it's so confident, as though this is a nice neutral business transaction. Buy a multi-million dollar condo, fuck your ex fiancee’s best friend, all in a day’s work. Jesus. She’s still considering it, though. And the thought that Judy was once in this same place, being propositioned by Steve, should be a deterrent but instead it makes her feel weirdly closer to Judy. And they’re good friends, so that’s nice. 

“Your place or mine?” Jen asks before she can talk herself out of it. 

\---

His place is the logical choice and soon after they’re in his huge bed, surrounded by an annoying excess of pillows and high thread count white sheets. Did Steve pick these? Or did Judy? A little bolt of warmth zips through her chest at the thought and she feels momentarily guilty, like she’s betraying Judy by fucking her ex-fiance on the sheets she picked out. 

She shakes the thought from her mind and pulls Steve’s hips against hers. There’s a bit too much tongue in their kiss and Jen’s struggling to keep up with his mouth, but she can already feel his hardness pressing against her through his dress pants and there's an answering surge of arousal in her. It’s been  _ so _ long since she’s felt wanted like this, desired in any way, that she can ignore the fact Steve’s just using her to get off. She’s doing the same to him, she supposes, so nobody’s really getting hurt. Except maybe Heidi. Good riddance though, Steve was probably cheating on Judy with her anyway. 

Jen pushes at his shoulders until he’s on his back and she’s straddling him (she never did like being pinned under a man), kissing and grinding until she’s wet and he takes her hand in his to press it against his crotch. She breaks away grinning, enjoying the power in having him under her and at her mercy, having to ask rather than just  _ taking  _ the way men always seem to. 

"Condom?"

"I'm not really a rubbers guy. I'm sensitive, ya know?" He breathes in feigned remorse. 

"Oh, you’re allergic to latex?”

"No, it's more of an ideological thing. But don't worry, baby, I'll pull out."

"Gross. And don't fucking call me baby."

Of course he's morally opposed to condoms, of course he fucking is, she thinks while working at the button on his slacks with practiced ease. She breaks away for a moment to slip damp black lace out from underneath her dress, pulling it up by the hem a little to give her room to move. She's determined to get straight to the point before her better judgement catches up, so she keeps her movements steady and focused. Her dress stays on because that's a whole conversation she doesn't need to have right now and it doesn't seem to bother Steve at all; he is clearly getting off on the whole thing in ways that have nothing to do with her body. 

She settles back in, reaches into his unzipped pants and grips him, hard. Wow.

“Shit, Judy wasn’t kidding…” Jen mumbles as she palms Steve’s length. 

“Oh, you like that?” Steve groans at her touch. 

She does, but she isn’t gonna dignify that narcissism with an answer. And she prefers Steve when he’s not talking, so to preserve her arousal she strokes her hand back and forth before moving up his body again, straddling him, lining him up at her entrance and pressing down with her hips until he bottoms out inside of her. Jen groans at the stretch.  _ Good version of big _ indeed. 

“What else did Judy say about me?” Steve queries, because of course he heard that. 

“That’s- that’s it,” Jen pants. “She just said you were big.”

“Fuck yeah I am,” Steve boasts, and Jen nearly gags at the pride dripping from his words. Gross. “She could hardly take all of me. You’re not as tiny as her. It feels good to fuck a real  _ woman  _ for a change.”   


Jen wrinkles her nose. Jesus. This is his idea of dirty talk? She feels self-conscious for a moment at the “not as tiny” comment before she registers what he’s said about Judy and, before she can stop herself, she’s sinking down again and imagining Judy doing the same. Slowly -- Judy would have done it slowly -- and she’d gasp a little at the stretch. Jen whimpers at the imagined sound and the arousal she feels at the thought, and Steve grabs tighter at her hips, pushing his own hips up hard into her and taking control of the pace. She clenches her teeth; she’s always liked to feel the ache of it. 

Does Judy? Did she like it when he grabbed her like this? 

It’s so fucking wrong and so weird to think of her like this but Jen can’t help herself. The depravity of it is mortifying but she’s already wetter than she usually is at this point, and without even using her own hand. Jen feels Steve’s next thrust deeper and she barely stifles another groan. She looks down to where their bodies join, where they're still mostly clothed and it makes it all the more fucking obscene, sweat sheened skin and a dick that disappears over and over inside Jen’s feverish body, all framed by business tailoring. 

“You like that?” Steve grunts.

“Does Judy?” Jen blurts before she can stop herself. 

Oops. 

“Yeah, she fucking does,” Steve breathes, and it’s gross how into his own sexual prowess he is but fuck Jen’s turned on thinking about delicate little Judy writhing under his rough touch. 

She whimpers at the mental image, Judy’s head thrown back in pleasure at the bruising pressure, soaked enough to take Steve deep. Maybe she’s thought about what Judy would be like in bed before, in the fleeting way friends do, but fucking the same guy in the same bed is painting quite the picture and she’s trying not to think too hard about why she’s so turned on right now. 

“Oh, you like that? You want me to fuck you like I fuck her?”

Jen groans in arousal and embarrassment at being caught rather than answering him. Fuck, she does. She really, really does. She grinds her hips down hard, chasing more pressure against her clit and shaking her head, in an attempt to both refute Steve’s assessment and convince herself he’s wrong.

In a moment she's flipped around on her knees, Steve pushing her dress further up her back, pressing her down onto all fours. He smooths his hands down her back, across her ass, spreading her obscenely before she can feel the blunt end of his cock pushing into her, stretching her open for him again. 

“You want me to tell you how loud she is? How I always cover her mouth when I fuck her in public?” He hisses.

Oh Jesus Christ. 

Jen whimpers and pushes back against him, involuntarily closing her eyes at the vision; Judy with a hand clamped over her mouth, Judy with fingers up her dress in public,  _ Judy, Judy, Judy. _

“Or do you want to hear about how she likes it a little rough? Would beg me to fuck her from behind and tell me how good my cock felt?” 

Jen cries out. She’s fucking mortified that Steve has figured her out like this, has put a finger on something so buried she hasn’t even noticed it, can’t acknowledge it even now. She’s more turned on than she’s ever been and now is certainly not the time to examine too closely why the fuck that is, but the creeping sense of shame burns hot inside her. Instead she leans into it, bends over further, chases the heat that’s building at the thought of Judy bent over like this and  _ begging _ . Her Judy, who picks flowers and apologizes to the plucked stem, her Judy who carefully pours a heart into the foam of Jen's morning latte. 

Jen hadn't gone into any particular detail really when she imagined Judy's sex life in passing. She isn't sure what she thought Judy would like but this certainly isn't it. Maybe demure, sweet Judy  _ making love  _ surrounded by romance and gossamer and candles. Not on her knees, begging to be debased and degraded like this, to be shamelessly fucked into the mattress and treated like a whore. She tries desperately to square the Judy she knows, delicate mannerisms and soft smiles, with this new one that is slutty and wanton, and this thought is her undoing. 

“You don’t believe that wholesome little act she puts on, do you? She wants to be fucked like the little slut- she- is.” Steve hisses, punctuating his last words with targeted thrusts of his hips, pushing her face roughly down into the pillow. It's degrading every feminist principle she's ever believed in but that's drowned out by the staccato pounding that pushes all rational thought from her head. The tension curling low in her belly starts to unfurl, pulling her under and driving her to succumb. Jen lets the wave of shame and arousal overtake her, relinquishing her body to the deluge of sensation. 

“Fuck, oh- fuck!” Jen whimpers, digging her fingers hard into the pillow that muffles her. She teeters on the precipice for a moment, overwhelmed by the flash of images behind her closed lids, Judy being  _ used,  _ being  _ fucked _ . 

“Judy!”

Jen keens as she comes - hard - stilted cries working their way from her throat with each oversensitive rock of her hips against Steve’s. She can feel her face, glowing and flushed with the heat of her shame and her orgasm, though it’s all coalesced into a confusing mess of mortification, realization, and lust. Maybe he didn't hear that, she thinks hopelessly for a moment.

He eases off a little, slowing to a steady rock into her, and for a while she's glad for the crisp white cotton she can bury her face in while the furious blushing subsides. The shame threatens her like a bucket of ice water poised over her head, but then he strokes at her hair, runs his fingers over the skin of her neck and shoulders before pulling her up onto her hands again, laughing low in her ear as though he's won. She feels it resonating deep in her belly. 

Jen closes her eyes for a moment, imagines that she is Judy, that her body is Judy's and Jen is the one fucking her, digging her fingers into her hips and grinding herself into them. It's Judy that feels a hard cock bottoming out inside her and filling her up. Judy who throws her head back before Jen pushes her face into the pillow. 

“Does she- fuck,” Jen can’t believe she’s playing along with this now, but she can’t help herself. She’s in too deep. “Does she like it when you talk to her?”

Steve slides his fingers around the wetness of her entrance, gliding them around the sensitive folds where his cock disappears inside her and moving to press a broad flat pressure onto her clit which pulses with the echo of her orgasm.

“Oh yeah. She likes me to tell her how hot she looks, how fucking wet she is for me, just like you are.” He grunts, and a shiver works its way through Jen at the thought of Judy getting off on hearing how soaked she is. Could she take three of Jen’s fingers at once? Four? 

Jen doesn't really notice at first, the switch from imagining Judy with Steve to imagining herself there, making Judy writhe in pleasure but it’s too late to stop it now. It can be one of those things that she just privately indulges in now and then, like tiramisu, or “Hoarders”. 

“Fuck!” Jen whimpers, squeezing her eyes shut tighter and rolling her hips to savor the deep pressure. 

“If I asked Judy to come and fuck me right now, she would. Do you want me to call her? Want me to get her on the phone so she can hear you? D’you want her to hear you moaning as you take my dick?” He hisses. Insistent. Relentless. Steve grips tighter and holds her while thrusting hard and fast into her, knocking a shriek from her chest at the increase in speed. “Or should I just invite her over to see you like this? Is that what you want, hmm? You want her to walk in that door and see you like  _ this _ ?” He grabs her hair in his fist, pulling her head back to bare her throat for him, her back arching in compliance. 

“Yes! Fuck,  _ yes _ .” Jen cries, embarrassment tamped down behind the hot insistence of her arousal, flames stoked by Steve’s words.

He pulls her up hard with a hand at her neck, rasps hot against her ear:

“Maybe I'll get her over here so you can fuck her and pretend we’re sharing? Is that what you need to finally make a move? For me to push your face into her pussy while I fuck you? Pretend you’re straight and it’s all Steve’s fault?"

Jen whimpers, bottom lip trapped behind her teeth in an utterly futile attempt to conceal how affected she is by his words, wishing briefly that she could be shoved into the pillows again to hide the raw lust painted across her treacherous face. How fucking close she is already from thinking about her best fucking friend. 

“Do you wanna see what Judy’s face looks like when I make her come and she screams my name?”

When Steve says it, she's forced to imagine it: Judy's dress gathered loose across her back, eyes shut tight as she let herself be used by Steve, moaning his name loudly into the pillows. She thinks about Judy’s thigh muscles, trembling and tensing as her pleasure turns to something overwhelming. A messy swarm of images invade her mind and engulf her; Judy with a hand tight over her mouth, legs wrapped around Jen’s waist _ ,  _ outdoors, an alley maybe? A park? Judy begging for more, her back arching, shameless. 

At the beginning of this she had felt like an empowered woman taking what she wanted, but at some point she lost control. Now she’s adrift in a fantasy where she fucks her best friend and all the feelings that she's disregarded as intimate platonic friendship have exploded into technicolor. It’s honestly too much. 

Jen could come again from this, this rhythmic pounding while Steve uses her body and she uses his, but suddenly he pushes her unceremoniously off his cock and she feels the loss of it immediately. 

"Do you want to know what would make her come for me the hardest?"

It's rhetorical because before Jen can answer, she's on her side with Steve pressed close behind her, his voice hot in her ear. 

"I'd hold her close against me like this," Steve wraps his arms around her, one hand roughly grabbing at her breast, pressing her back tight against his torso, the other hitching her dress up further around her waist, dragging thick fingers through the wetness he finds between her legs and circling her clit. "I'd tell her how good she is, that I loved her and that I was going to give her a baby. She can't get enough of that sappy shit. Tell her she’s a good girl and you love her and if she thinks you mean it? She'll go off like a fucking rocket. Little tip for you there."

Jen hates that she's so fucking worked up about this, this vision of her wrapping her arms around Judy, telling her how much she means to her, holding her tight through her climax and feeling her body crest while she fucks her through it. The image is so tender for her that she's disgusted by Steve’s casual disrespect of it. She would tell Judy how much she loves her and fucking  _ mean it _ , and it's only now she realises how true that really is. The irony of it digs sharp into her skin. 

"Don't try and play the good person now. I know you love this, you're so fucking wet for me. You think I can't feel you straining to get my dick back inside you? You and I, we're the same, we're sharks. We can do whatever we want, just because it feels good. And it feels fucking good, doesn't it? I want to hear you say it. Tell me it feels good?" 

Steve slides the head of his cock back through her wetness, brushing her clit with it before hovering teasingly at her entrance, and repeating. 

"Tell me you want it and you can have it,” he snarls. ”And I can feel that you fucking want it, don't you?" 

God, she does. Hanging in the balance of too much and not enough has turned into fucking agony now and Jen needs it to be over. Wants it so badly that she's ready to put all pretenses of human decency aside? Maybe yes. Shit, definitely yes. She's loath to completely give in to him but at this point she's wound so tightly that it almost doesn't matter. All she can think about is the quivering tension of her muscles begging for release and that she needs  _ more _ , just a tiny bit more to push herself over that edge. 

"God, fine, it feels fucking good, okay?" 

The moment the words are out, he pushes back inside her, so slowly that it drags a guttural moan from her body without permission. 

God, she fucking hates this asshole, but she's too far into this now. He starts to move again slowly at first but then his hips start snapping hard against her with every thrust, rough jolts through her whole body, only tempered by the strong arms wrapped tight around her. Steve's arms. Jen fucking hates herself but the shame of this is so profound that it's really doing it for her. She's almost there, can feel her muscles tightening, chasing towards the edge she so desperately needs to fall from. Just a little more. 

“That’s it, baby. You give me a call anytime you can’t take it anymore, Judy staring at you with those big eyes, holding your hand. Come over and I’ll tell you what a good little whore she is for me,” Steve grits from behind clenched teeth, Jen silent and tensed in his grip. “I’ll fuck you like I fuck her."

The whine she’s been holding back escapes her throat, treacherously, outing her once again. 

"Fuck, you like that yeah? You want me to talk you off like her? Tell you how hot you are? How good it feels to fuck you? You want me to tell you how I'm gonna come inside you? Is that why you're here? Does she know that you're here, begging for it like a little slut?" 

Oh no. 

It's like he's surrounding her; she can taste his kisses, feel him thrusting deep into her, pushing hard against that one spot which just feels too fucking good, his breath stroking at her face. He's revolting in so many ways but, shit, he's really good at this. Maybe she kind of gets it now, that he knows how to push people's buttons. She hadn’t really taken him as a particularly observant guy, but he's seen her. Seen through all the bullshit Jen had been using to deny this thing, this precious, beautiful, confusing thing that’s been growing between her and Judy. He'd seen it and used it to get under her skin, put images in her head that she can't stop and the vision of them, at home, raising their family together is what gets her. 

Shit shit _shit shit shitshitshit-_

His hand wraps around her body to begin rubbing fast circles into her clit and, for a moment, she sees in perfect detail a scene in front of her: she goes home, Judy's there and she just fucking kisses her. Jen's fingers in her hair, the wet warmth of Judy's breath on her lips, her surprise and then her pushing back, reciprocating, her tongue pressing wet into Jen's mouth and-- 

_ Yes yes yes Fuck. _

She's there, free falling into orgasm with the roar of her rushing blood loud in her ears. Her body feels wild and animal, straining against the strong arms trying to hold her tightly as she shatters, broken shards of her floating adrift and out of her control, a brittle and strangled noise escaping her throat. 

"Oh yeah, look at you, coming with my big fucking dick inside you. I bet you've never fucked a guy this big before, huh? Take it, take it, oh fuck,” Steve mumbles a stream of egoistic filth in her ear as his hips snap against her, losing rhythm as he chases his own high. She should really get up now, leave him to finish in his own hand, maybe preserve the tiny scrap of dignity that will certainly be lost by asking at the counter for Plan B, as a woman who's nearly 50. 

Instead Jen lies there, tensed but letting herself be a vessel for whatever narcissistic dick fantasy Steve needs to get himself off. His hips finally falter and slow, pressing into her as he comes with a grunt, predictably disregarding his earlier assurance that he would pull out. Of course that was bullshit, it’s always bullshit. She should have known that he’d say whatever he needed to to get his own way. 

Her body feels wrecked, a singular throbbing pulse echoing in every part of her and rushing demanding in her ears. Her breaths are labored and engage her whole chest, deep exhalations that use every muscle around her ribs but that she can feel in her whole body, stretching then relaxing. Focus. If she just focuses on her body, maybe she can enjoy this last moment of repletion before the cruelty of reality comes rushing back to her. She knows it's there, hovering just above her, waiting for her to open her eyes. 

If Judy ever finds out about this, it would be over between them, right? She's put a time bomb under her own happiness for the sake of a good fuck, but hell, at least it was the best she's had in years. 

Jen can feel Steve softening inside her, sliding out of her body with a wet sound that sickens her to her stomach. Her appraisal of her body comes to a jarring halt. When she opens her eyes, she notices for the first time a tiny crystal sitting on the bedside table, no bigger than a quarter and shining turquoise in the light of the afternoon. A tiny little bit of Judy in this enormous house full of Steve, but she’s still here.

Judy was supposed to be her best friend, has shown her nothing but kindness and affection and how has Jen repaid that? By fucking the man she wanted to marry. Would probably still marry if he asked her and actually followed through with the promise. The man she wanted to father her children. How the hell could she have let this happen? She's a fucking psychopath. She's fucking De Niro in every movie he's ever been in. What the fuck was she thinking? She needs to leave right the fuck now.

Jen gets up with a start, scrabbling behind her to pull the zipper of her dress back down to give her some semblance of dignity and surreptitiously wiping the inside of her thighs with his thousand thread-count sheets.

"Yeah, sorry, baby” he waves, uncaring. “Do you have that whole situation handled or can I throw you a fifty for the pharmacy?" 

He's so casual about it, just sitting in his absurdly ostentatious four poster bed, his hands behind his head with the unbearably self-satisfied smugness of a man who would light up a cigarette if he weren't so afraid of dirtying his stark white room.

"You're such an asshole,” Jen grumbles under her breath, pushing down the vague nausea she feels rolling in her stomach. “You better be a discrete asshole at least. And don't fucking call me baby. I am a full grown fuckin' woman."

She's so thankful that Judy never married this guy, remembering for a moment that if none of this had happened, if she and Judy had never met, she would still have Ted, and Mrs. Judy Wood would probably be right here in this bed with her husband, lying in the spot that Jen has just dirtied with her sweat and the broken remains of her dignity. 

She doesn't want to admit that her life is better now. But the quiet part of her brain that has no words and simply knows, betrays her. It is better now. She's a better parent, or at least trying to be, and she has Judy, who is always on her side even when she's not entirely sure it's the right side. And she's ruined it. She's fucking ruined it and she needs to make it up to Judy, regardless of whether she knows. And she can  _ never  _ know. 

“She’s never gonna fuck you, you know.”

“What?” Jen asks, discomfort burning sharp in her abdomen.

“She’s straight,” he laughs. “She loves my dick too much. I just like to tell people what they want to hear, so you're welcome.”

Jen feels the shame pricking hot tears at the corners of her eyes, but she refuses to fucking dignify that with an acknowledgement. 

"So," she asks as she slides her heels back on, "all stuff you said, was any of it true?"

He laughs.

"We had a good time. Does it really matter?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What else, Jen?” Judy smooths her hands up over Jen’s shoulders, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear and dragging her fingertips down her neck gratuitously. “Tell me what Steve said.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you didn't think we'd write 5k of hetero sex without following it up with gay, did you?
> 
> thanks to those who made this even better, you know who you are.

"Please tell me what I can do to make it better, to make things right, and I'll do it. I would do anything. Please tell me what I can do.” 

Her secret finally out, laying bare and raw between them in the oppressive stillness of the night, Judy thought she’d feel better. She thought, maybe, she’d feel a weight lift. But instead, she only desperately needed Jen’s understanding, the promise they could still be okay. The firm grip of guilt, her constant companion over the preceding months, had wrapped tight around her throat and she could only beg, inadequate words turning to ash in the unbearable silence. 

“You can die.”

“No-” 

Jen’s certain, cutting words sliced at Judy and hurt worse than anything she’d ever done to herself. She had felt the unsteadiness like an unwelcome friend, present for so much of her life; she’d always been used to losing the ground under her feet. 

_You can get the fuck out of my house, and don’t come fucking near me or my boys ever again._

Judy had thought that was it. Was already spiraling when Jen threw her blanket down, as though suddenly sickened by the comfort it provided, but Jen made it two steps before turning and bending down, eye level with Judy. 

“You know what? I fucked Steve last week. It's actually a fucking relief that I can stop feeling like shit about it now.” 

“You- Jen, you what?” 

But she had already gone and Judy was left reeling in the silent backyard, the click of the patio door lock adding a sickening finality to their conversation. 

The need to leave, to give Jen what she was asking for, had been overwhelming. Judy couldn’t stand burdening Jen another minute with her presence at her house. She could hear the words still, poisoning the air around her like acid -- _get the fuck out of my house._ Not _their_ house. Jen’s. 

She had suddenly found herself in the guest house packing; heart pounding in her chest; a ringing in her ears. Random things thrown together, stuffed in a bag in no order in her frenzy. She was 14 again with a social worker waiting downstairs while she filled a trash bag, clothes and papers blurred through the tears welling in her eyes. 

Why did she do this, still? Leave her things scattered everywhere around her like a nest? She should know better than to get so comfortable. Every time it happened Judy cursed herself -- _say goodbye to all of the things you tried to use to weigh yourself down._ _The rope to your anchor has snapped now; good luck in the open ocean._ But she had always been good about being tossed in the waves. She was a survivor, always had been. But she was so _tired_ of treading water. 

It didn’t really matter though, when she had to leave too much behind. 

Her body had always acted before her mind could catch up. Maybe it was from years of pushing down _Judy_ , making herself small; a well-practiced defence mechanism that followed her to adulthood. She was used to waiting for the other shoe to drop, used to being discarded and packing her possessions in a hurry before her thoughts arrived, clamoring for acknowledgment. 

It had been the same, then. 

Did Jen mean what she said? Or was it a knife thrown to hurt? The wild animal that was an angry Jen could have been lashing out, desperately grabbing at anything to wound Judy in return for the pain she’d caused. That Jen would land on Steve was just an inevitability. That wound was still fresh and Jen had just rubbed at the raw edges of it, prodding her so calculatedly. 

But no. When Jen wanted to hurt her claws were razor sharp and merciless, but there was something then that felt different. Maybe how quickly she found her words; fast and perfectly formed instead of the hesitant improv Jen usually used when she lied. And there were far worse things Jen could have said if her sole aim was to hurt; Judy was an open book and her scars had been bared to Jen since embarrassingly soon after they’d met. 

So, Jen and Steve. She’d felt the twist of guilt behind her ribs, of jealousy. But jealousy towards who? Towards Jen, for sleeping with the man Judy had planned to marry? Or, was she jealous of Steve? 

The thought had hit her with the hard force of a breaking wave, bathing her in clarity. 

Oh, no.

She didn’t care that Jen slept with her ex fiancé, the one she would have married if she’d only been able to give him what he wanted. She should have, but she didn’t.

It was Jen; she _loved_ Jen. And she had just lost her. 

Judy had left the guesthouse for the last time, closing the door and feeling sick with the finality of it. It was what was best for Jen, the only way Judy could make it better. She was stupid to have thought that inserting herself into Jen’s life could help. Always the stupid fucking optimist. She had never made anything better.

She had walked the neighborhood streets immediately afterward, confronted with the humiliating fact that she had nobody to call. Steve had such a powerful presence that took up so much space in her life, squeezing everyone else out. For years he had made her feel like she didn’t need anyone else until one day she realized there _was_ no one else.

The tendrils of loneliness, ironically her one lifelong friend, had curled so threateningly within her it became hard to breathe. Deep gasping breaths of clammy ocean air weren't sufficient to calm the stuttering of her heart so she dropped hard onto a bench, closed fists beating against her head in an effort to ground her, to chase the unwelcome thoughts away, rhythmic strikes in penitence as if she could undo Jen’s pain by taking it on herself. Judy’s gasps for breath had turned to sobs, and she covered her mouth to keep from inconveniencing anyone else.

She stayed there after, sitting on the bench, staring up at the vastness of the night sky like she had since she was small. It had always been her greatest comfort, this reminder of her insignificance. In the grand scheme of things, her problems were small and meaningless, as was she. 

She had found the brightest star and thought about making a wish but there was too much that she wanted. She wanted to erase every bad thing she had done to Jen. To everyone. She wanted to disappear.

A tear dripped down her cheek and she could see then, without the pooling tears, which star she had been so fixated on. The heart of the scorpion, a cosmic reminder that Jen was the definition of an unyielding Scorpio, and she would _never_ forgive Judy for what she had done. 

_You can die._

She’d begged Jen to tell her how she could make things right, and Jen gave her answer. It had repeated over and over in Judy’s head. _You can die. You can die you can die youcandie._

It hadn’t been the first time that solution had appealed to her. It wasn’t even the second, or the third. She thought then that maybe, Jen was right.

When Judy stood in the road in the glare of oncoming headlights, she felt relief. This act of retribution, the one thing that would make everything better. She was _finally_ going to make things better.

And then Jen saved her.

\--

It seemed karmically sound that Judy's life should be the price, but instead she pays with charnel dirt under her fingernails and the exertion that burns the muscles in her thighs; the secret binding her to Jen forever. 

It hurt. The finality of death severing her connection to Steve wasn’t something she had prepared for. The remains of the future she had once planned for herself, lying contorted in Jen’s garage freezer and now under a tree in the Angeles national forest. But at the same time, and she feels sick for even thinking it, she feels lighter now in a way she isn't ready to really examine too closely yet.

She and Jen dance together and it feels like they made it. Jen's aura, which usually throbbed blood red and veined in black, now glows green, vital and alive. They move together like they’re free now. Both dragged through the mud, not just in a literal sense tonight but for months now, for the entirety of their relationship really, and finally now there are no more secrets. Judy feels drunk on the freedom of it. Well, the freedom and the wedding’s open bar. 

They drink cheap wine and inexpertly mixed cocktails and dance to every song like it's their favorite. Maybe this is her new favorite song, the one that they’re making together, just feeling the beat in her chest and bathing in the lightness that radiates from Jen. She’s got whiplash from the worst day of her life becoming one of the best somehow, on this dance floor with her body close to Jen’s, wrapped up in her laughter that’s so open and earnest and forgiving. Judy couldn’t possibly have earned this forgiveness but she’s a bit too drunk to look a gift horse in the mouth right now. 

Fingers curling themselves into Judy’s palm, Jen tugs at her, pulling her towards the bar. Still holding her hand, an absent-minded pinkie finger stroking back and forth on the sensitive skin of Judy’s wrist. She wonders if Jen even knows if that’s what she’s doing. Judy can’t figure out why she’s been chosen when Jen so obviously recoils from the touch of most people. Maybe it’s something that can only happen in the quietly ignored spaces when no one is looking or acknowledging. Maybe shining a light on it would shatter whatever little bit of magic led to this being part of their dynamic, so she doesn’t dare. Judy’s always been happy to have her hand held and not ask too many questions about it. 

-

If Jen wasn’t beside her, Judy would feel terrible about getting kicked out of a bar, but instead they laugh about it. 

“I don’t know if I’m ready for tonight to be over.” Jen says, nudging Judy’s shoulder with hers as they leave and find themselves in the hotel lobby. 

“Me neither, but I have an idea.”

They clamber awkwardly onto the hood of their rental car that’s still slightly warm with the heat of the day and parked at the back edge of the parking lot, overlooking an empty valley that’s so dark it seems to stretch out forever. They share a cigarette and watch the smoke curl up towards the stars; they seem to share a lot of cigarettes for two women who don’t smoke. 

“Oh hey, if you look over there, Pisces is out.” Jen motions at the sky, using the cigarette as a pointer. 

“Jen! I didn’t think you were into astrology!”

“Oh, I’m really not. I got into astronomy for a while in college, when my sleep first went to shit and I started just going outside at night. You see the one in the middle of it with a kinda red glow? That’s Mars.”

“Mars is the planet of aggression and sex.”

“Yeah sure, sure it is.” Jen points at the faint red dot, “If you keep looking up above that to the bright square there, that’s Pegasus.” 

Judy tries to find it, specific points of light in a sky bright with stars. 

“There?”

“The top one there is called Scheat.”

“Scheat?” Judy slurs with a drunken drawl.

“Scheat,” Jen nods, wisely.

Jen moves her outstretched arm, her fingers firm and sure as they adjust her point over to the right a little more, then more uncertain as they trail down Judy’s arm gratuitously. 

“Aquarius is resting his booty on the moon.”

They laugh; Judy loves that the night sky is so important to them both, two entirely different routes that have led them both to this same place, together in the dark. Jen points at the sky, talking her through the brightest points of light, and Judy imagines her in college; young, and full of opportunity and free of so many of the things which burden her now, still unable to sleep and teaching herself about space. Judy wonders if they would have gotten along if they’d met back then. Probably not. It was always meant to turn out like this. 

At some point she stops looking for the points of light that Jen is trying to show her, and instead looks at her, the blonde hair that splays over the windshield, her eyes that shine with unguarded happiness and drunkenness, the little scar at the corner of her mouth that’s barely visible in the darkness but she knows it’s there; their little secret. 

“Did you get bored of stars?” Jen notices her staring.

“Never! I was just thinking how romantic this is.” She’s joking. Or she says it like a joke at least but there’s much more truth to it than if she was sober. But this would be romantic, if Judy was allowed to have feelings for the person she definitely has feelings for. 

“God, I know,” Jen laughs, her head falling to the side to look at Judy properly. “If you weren’t totally straight, I think I’d make a move right now.”

Jen says it with a laugh in her voice but there’s something in her eyes that says that this isn’t funny. There’s a sadness there that Judy doesn’t really understand. Even though she’s told herself so many times now that she and Jen can’t ever be in a romantic relationship, hearing Jen say out loud that she is interested, that she would make a move on her but won't, feels like something has been offered and immediately snatched away. 

“Who told you that?” 

Jen shrugs, turns away from her, looking back to the sky, but Judy presses again because she can’t even begin to imagine who Jen possibly could have discussed her sexuality with and if that’s the only thing in the way here, it feels like need-to-know information.

“No, really, who told you that?”

“Well, Steve said-“ Jen stops herself, looking contrite and avoiding Judy’s gaze. 

Judy always figured Steve was oblivious to her attraction to more than just men, though he had never asked and she’d always had a small, irrational worry that he’d use that knowledge to try and push her into some regrettable threesome so she kept it to herself. Steve’s incorrect assumption isn’t really a surprise. It’s the fact that he apparently shared this at some point with Jen?

“How on earth did it come up with Steve that I was ‘totally straight’?”

Jen stares for a moment, wide-eyed like she’s been caught.

“Oh. Ohh-” It clicks then and Judy feels her heart beat harder in her chest. They haven’t talked about this yet and she had almost dismissed it as a lie, said in anger. But this is confirmation. “Y’mean when you fucked him?” 

Jen - in true Scorpio fashion, Judy should have known - refuses to react, fixing her instead with a narrow-eyed stare. Because she’s right. 

“I guess I just don’t understand why you and Steve would be talking about my sexual orientation while you, um -“ Judy pauses for a moment to evaluate what she knows about what happened, which as it turns out is basically nothing. “What did you do, exactly?”

Jen grumbles under her breath and Judy’s pretty sure she can make out a curse or two. 

“Well, you’re pretty much the only thing we had in common, Judy.” Jen’s faux exasperation is weak but Judy isn't ready to let this drop yet and it's so rare that she feels like she has the advantage.

“Aw, I think it’s sweet that you thought about me during sex, Jen.” Judy’s teasing words are a slow and lazy drawl in her drunken state. She’s always toed this line of flirting with Jen, so she’s absolutely not expecting the sudden intense blush she sees blooming across her face. Jen looks like she’s been discovered. Like she’s _mortified_. 

“Oh, my god,” Judy breathes. “You did.”

“Oh, what, it’s not _that_ weird, Judy.” Jen rolls her eyes, but the blush doesn’t recede. “You’re attractive. I hadn’t gotten laid in like, two years. _He_ brought it up.”

Jen gestures vaguely in the direction they drove from, towards the forest. Oh, right. Him.

“I didn’t say it was _weird,_ I’m just thinking.”

Jen sighs. 

“He might have... thought that I was into you,” Jen grimaces but soldiers on, a fact that Judy is truly grateful for because she still could really use some more clarity here. “He told me you were straight and you’d never fuck me.”

Oh. 

“He was wrong.”

“About?”

“Both, Jen.”

“...oh.”

The silence stretches for a moment. 

“I’m...sorry.” Jen’s voice cracks a little, like facing the shame of a sincere apology pains her, “I think I wanted to understand why you kept choosing him. Over and over, you went back to him and I just lost my mind a little. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I wasn’t sure that you thought about me like that, and there were so many secrets between us before it wouldn’t have been right anyway. But you don’t have to lie to me, Jen. You don’t have to hide things from me.”

“It’s really hard to break the habit of a lifetime.”

“I know you’ll get there.” Judy whispers. And then, “I think you should probably kiss me now.”

Jen puts a hand to her neck, running her thumb lightly across Judy’s jaw as she just smiles. In the stillness, they breathe through these last moments before their friendship transforms into something else. All the unspoken potential that fizzed between them hangs in the air until Jen closes the space and kisses her. Jen’s lips are soft and press against her mouth in a series of soft kisses that don’t ask for more, maybe don’t think they deserve more. 

“Do you want to take this indoors?” Jen asks, with uncharacteristic nervousness.

“Why, you wanna try and break back into Whiskers and Wigs?” 

“I was thinking more about our room.”

“You’re right. We should take this back to the Presidential Suite.”

They climb off the car gracelessly, go back to the hotel lobby which seems cool and crisp after the clingy warmth of the summer night air. Her hand finds Jen's as they wait for the elevator.

“What did you say about me?” Judy purrs into Jen’s ear. “What made him think you were into me?”

She’s never seen Jen look so abashed. Her fingertips fiddle absently with the denim placket of Jen’s shirt, eyes searching as the elevators dings and they step inside. 

“I didn’t- he was talking to me. About you, about what you liked...” There’s a flash of something else in Jen’s eyes and she looks like she’s remembering; the muscles in her jaw flex when she clenches her teeth and Judy feels a hot fluttering low in her stomach, jealousy wrapped tightly in desire. 

“He told you what I liked?” Judy breathes the words into Jen’s mouth as their lips meet again, and the taste on Jen’s lips, the fresh smoke of their cigarette and the earthiness of the scotch is an unexpected reminder of the secret they share together. Of the dirt they washed off their hands in tandem. 

“He told me- he said you like it rough. That you’re loud. He just kept-“ Jen breaks eye contact to look at the scratched wood paneling behind Judy as if it will tell her how to confess her dirty little secret to her best friend. 

Judy feels a heady rush of power at Jen’s uncharacteristic vulnerability. Jen had thought about her during sex. Jen thought about Judy while Steve told her every dirty little thing she’d ever gotten off on, she’s willing to bet. God, the exhibitionist inside her _thrills_ at the thought. The doors of the empty elevator open in front of them.

“What else, Jen?” Judy smooths her hands up over Jen’s shoulders, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear and dragging her fingertips down her neck gratuitously. “Tell me what he said.”

She catches the moment a switch flips in Jen. Decisive, sudden, the conviction settling into her body and igniting determination behind her blown pupils. 

Jen grabs her then, shoving her against the back wall, turning for a moment to swipe their room key and press the button for the ninth floor before she’s back on Judy and kissing her _hard._

There are teeth on her lower lip and the elevator railing is digging into her back and she’s never been so ready so quickly. God, this is _Jen._ Jen’s hands guiding their kiss, her fingers digging into Judy, toeing the line of bruising. A promise. 

“You wanna know what Steve said? He said you like to get fucked in public. Like this,” Jen nips at her neck, pinning her against the elevator wall by her shoulders. She’s predatory. “Do you, Judy? If I put a hand up your skirt now would you push me away? Or would you beg me for it? Should we see how silent you can be? Ride the elevator up and down with whoever wants to get on, be good and quiet so you don’t get caught with my fingers inside you?”

Judy whimpers.

_Oh._

“Was Steve right, baby? You want me to turn you around and bend you over, see how many fingers you can take for me?”

Judy doesn’t realize they’ve stopped moving until she feels the sudden loss of Jen’s body against hers. Jen steps off the elevator and looks back. 

“Well, you coming?”

She follows behind and waits as Jen fiddles drunkenly with the room key. A sliver of nervousness peaks through the cracks of Jen’s bravado and Judy sees her opportunity. As soon as the door swings open, she’s shoving Jen back into their room. 

Something about Jen makes her want to fight back, not go too easy. 

Jen looks momentarily stunned and the pride Judy feels at catching her off guard stokes her arousal. Oh, two can definitely play at this game. 

“Steve doesn’t know everything about me, you know” Judy hisses, grabbing Jen’s face to kiss her roughly. The first touch of their tongues sparks a warmth and it blooms low in her belly as she teases Jen’s lower lip with the sharp edge of her teeth. 

She breaks away and Jen’s panting, eyes hooded with lust and alcohol. Judy grins, taking in the moment, that special brand of whiskey-soaked placidity that is drunk Jen, who reaches for her face again. Judy pushes her hands away, grabbing Jen’s chin to turn her head and kiss down her neck. She needs Jen to know that she’s wanted this for far too long, wants to press her feelings straight into Jen’s skin to let her understand. She needs her to know that she couldn’t before even though she wanted to, but they’re equal now. It’s all in balance. 

“Oh, fuck. Judy.”

She likes that, it seems. Jen’s grip on her wrists is sudden, firm, and Judy breaks from the kiss, struggles against Jen’s hold in an effort to gain back her short-lived upper hand. She manages to pull one arm free and uses it to shove Jen off her, a push at her sternum that’s enough to send Jen stumbling backwards across the room, eyes alight with lust and a fury that reminds Judy of just how fucking turned on she is. 

Then Judy’s pushing Jen down on the bed, straddling her, and Jen must be letting her because she goes easy, leans back on her elbows after Judy pulls her top off and lets Judy press a thigh between her legs while mouthing against the lace of her bra. The soft groan Jen lets out is an accident, Judy can see it in the way she looks contrite afterward, as if the sound were an admission Jen wasn’t ready to make. 

Judy seizes the opportunity to prolong her upper hand, taunts Jen a little just for the thrill of it. 

“Did you like hearing about me? Hmm? Did you get wet when Steve told you what I like? How he used to get me off under the table at dinner? Yeah, did he tell you that?” 

Jen actually whimpers. 

“What did he say to you, Jen? What do you think you know about me?”

“Fuck you, Jude,” Jen whines and rocks her hips against Judy’s thigh. 

“Tell me, Jen, and I’ll keep going.” Judy runs a hand down her exposed torso, moves to the button of Jen’s jeans and pops it open, sliding the zipper down, waiting. 

“Fuck, okay,” Jen concedes, just like Judy knew she would. “He said you’d ask him- you’d beg him to fuck you from behind-”

Judy rewards the confession by shoving Jen’s jeans down to mid thigh and trailing a finger along newly-exposed damp black satin. 

“You liked that?”

“God, yes.”

“Mmm,” Judy presses the back of her knuckles against Jen’s crotch, just calculatedly insufficient pressure and no movement. “Did it make you think of me on my hands and knees in your bed, Jen?” 

Jen just nods and Judy pulls her hand back. Jen’s hips buck needily against the air and Judy swallows hard. 

“What else did he say, Jen?” Judy’s aware that she keeps repeating her name but she can’t help herself, she can’t let herself forget that this is _her Jen._

“He told me how wet you’d get.” Jen’s voice is high pitched and strained and she pauses for a moment before... “Can I feel?”

Judy doesn’t want to give up her advantage just yet but she knows she’s soaked, can feel the dampness between her legs even though Jen hasn’t even touched her yet, and _god_ she wants Jen to feel it. 

Judy presses her knuckles one last time against Jen before she concedes, grabbing Jen’s hand to guide it up her dress. 

Soft fingers trail up the inside of her leg and then Judy hears Jen’s gasp when she encounters the sticky wetness at the inside of her thigh, before even reaching her underwear. 

“Jesus, Jude.” Jen sounds awed. Reverent. Oh, god. 

Jen slips her fingers under the edge of black lace and starts exploring her entrance almost lazily. Judy’s maybe never been this wet before, can feel herself spilling onto Jen’s fingers and the sensation of Jen’s skin gliding so easily across her most sensitive parts is only contributing to that fact. Fuck. Jen looks her in the eye. 

“Oh, you’re _so_ wet for me, baby. Aren’t you?” 

Judy whines, bucks her hips lightly against Jen’s hand in encouragement and pulling her dress off over her head. Fuck having the upper hand. She’ll get her hands back on Jen later. This is so, so good. 

Judy notices Jen’s appreciative survey of her newly exposed tits and preens a bit under the attention. _So good indeed._

“Fuck, I didn’t even know it could be like this?” Jen muses as her fingers keep working, sliding torturously back and forth through Judy’s wetness, making circular passes around her clit that are just at the edge of not quite enough. This might be Jen’s first time with a woman but she sure as fuck seems to know what she’s doing. Judy can’t think too hard about why Jen’s so familiar with a woman’s anatomy, can’t go too deep and imagine Jen’s hand working furiously between her legs late at night in her bedroom. This would be over far too quickly. 

Judy cries out in surprise when Jen slides two fingers inside without warning and curls them towards herself. 

“Hmm, Steve said you were loud.” Jen smirks. “Am I gonna need to cover your mouth? Do you need to be gagged, baby?”

“You’ve thought- ahh- way too much about this, Jen.” Her light mockery is rendered ineffective by the breathiness she can’t help, the whimpers each thrust of Jen’s fingers pull from her throat. 

“Oh honey, you have no idea.”

Judy’s overwhelmed by the image Jen’s words paint. Can’t help but think of Jen riding Steve, growing more and more turned on as he told her what Judy liked. Jen’s next thrust comes easy and Judy flushes at the knowledge that she’s gotten even wetter at the mental image.

“Oh fuck, Jen. Tell me more? Please.” She begs. She has to know. “How- how did it start?”

“Hmmm,” Jen muses for a moment, and it’s clear she doesn’t have to search hard for this memory. “I might have said you were right about him being ‘the good kind of big’. He asked what else you said about me, said you could hardly take all of him…”

She trails off, biting her lip, and Judy rocks against the fingers that have now stilled inside of her. It’s good, the slowing of their pace, she needs this to be drawn out, needs to savor it. 

“Then what?”

“Then he was fucking me. I looked down to watch-” Jen glances down between them for a moment before meeting Judy’s eyes again. “He told me you liked that. Do you, Jude?”

Judy closes her eyes, overwhelmed by the image of it; Steve fucking Jen, hard, the way he used to fuck her. Steve and _Jen._ Jen, watching his cock push inside her just like Judy used to. It’s so hot but at the same time it stokes the coals of jealousy and she feels the anger broiling low in her belly. _She_ should be the one filling Jen, fucking her hard. It should always have been her.

“Open your eyes, Jude. You like to watch, don’t you? Look,” Jen commands, curling her fingers against the sensitive spot inside her to get her attention. “Look at my fingers inside you. Watch me while I fuck you, baby.”

Judy looks down and whimpers at the sight, Jen’s thick fingers -- the ones she’s laced her own through so many times, the ones she’s fixated on on more than one occasion -- they’re shiny with Judy’s wetness and sliding in and out of her so, so easily. She’d be embarrassed if Jen didn’t look so turned on herself, licking her lips as she watches them disappear inside Judy’s body. Jen slows the pace for a moment, adds a third, thrusts back inside her roughly and Judy whines, bucks her hips a little in an effort to take Jen deeper.

“I knew you could take three for me. Look how good you look, stretched open for me like this. So- fucking- greedy.” Jen punctuates each word with a staccato thrust and Judy has to close her eyes again to try to center herself. She’s way too fucking close. 

But Jen doesn’t stop. She fucks her harder and rougher and her fingers curl and Judy’s thighs tremble and then finally give out as she comes crashing down on top of Jen, barely bracing herself with a hand on the pillow next to Jen’s head. Jen looks fucking ravenous, predatory, and she flips Judy over in a way that makes her so, so aware of how small she is and how strong Jen is and how much alcohol she’s been drinking because wow, everything is spinning. Now she’s pinned to the bed, immobile, Jen looming over her with an unsettlingly attractive smirk flexing the corners of her lips. 

“You look so good underneath me, Jude,” Jen murmurs reverently, stroking a thumb along Judy’s cheekbone as she returns the same three fingers to Judy’s soaking cunt. The dichotomy is obscene, one hand soft against Judy’s cheek while the other is torturously rough where Judy is so helplessly sensitive. 

“You take my fingers so well, don’t you?”

“Jen, please, oh god - please.” 

“What, baby? What do you need?” 

Judy shakes her head. She doesn’t even know what she’s asking for. She just needs more, harder, rougher, wants Jen’s mouth and she wants to touch her and make her come too and to just kiss her for hours and feel their naked bodies together. She wants to draw it out but god she wants to come, too. Judy just _wants_ in a way she never has before.

“More, I need- just, more, Jen, please.” Judy babbles, tangled in sensation, mired in _feeling_ and praying Jen knows what she needs, won’t make her wait too much longer. 

Jen breathes out a laugh, hot and wet against Judy’s ear and Judy can’t help the whine that comes alongside the rock of her hips, her attempt to take Jen as deep as possible. Jen drags her teeth down the side of Judy’s throat, sucks a mark against her collarbone and drifts lower until she’s engulfing a nipple with that hot, hot mouth. 

“Fuck, Jen, fuck me, please. Please just fuck me, baby I need it, please-”

Jen complies, her fingers inside Judy scissor and twist and reach somehow deeper, filling her and pressing so hard and so persistently and Judy looks down, meets Jen’s eyes and the visual of Jen with her shoulder muscles flexing, hand working intentionally between Judy’s thighs and teeth closing around Judy’s nipple while she makes eye contact with her is too much. It’s too overwhelming to see Jen this way, determined and seductive, and Judy cries out, throwing her head back and baring her throat. She digs her fingers into Jen’s shoulder in an attempt to anchor herself, trying to hold out just a moment longer.

“I want to make you come, Jude. I want you to come for me, baby, you think you can do that for me?” It’s a question. Jen’s _asking._

Judy loses her grip on reality, tries desperately to cling to it with nails now digging into Jen’s skin and she hears the responding hiss against her own chest, hears Jen whispering _that’s it baby, that’s it Jude_ as she bucks, meets Jen’s thrusts and clenches hard around searching fingers as she comes. The sound is sucked out of the room in an instant and all she can hear as she fractures into pieces is a loud ringing, her own cries and muttered pleas muffled as they resonate inside her own head. Jen fucks her through it, fingers insistent against Judy’s g spot and a thumb just to the side of her clit to prolong her orgasm, fucking her even as Judy screams. 

And Jen brings her back down, after. She slows her thrusts, presses light, delicate kisses against Judy’s eyelids, her cheek, her bottom lip. Judy feels the loss of Jen’s fingers so acutely when she withdraws them, wiping them against her own thigh before kissing Judy soundly on the mouth, settling above Judy on all fours. She murmurs soft praises into Judy’s ear, tells her how good, how beautiful, how pretty she looked when she came.

“God, Judy.” Jen whispers. She sounds awed, and she pauses for a moment as if searching for words. “I love you.”

“You love me?”

“Jesus Christ, Judy, yes - I fucking _love_ you-”

The sudden swell of emotion that rises in Judy’s chest is overwhelming and she acts on it, grabbing the backs of Jen’s thighs and pulling them towards her.

“What are you doing?” Jen says with a slight uncertainty in her voice, her declaration of love still hanging so fresh in the air. 

“I think I need you to sit on my face, right now.” Judy pants, a little dazed, a lot desperate. 

She pulls again at Jen’s thighs, urging her up Judy’s body as she mouths a wet trail down Jen’s stomach. She shoves Jen’s soaked black lace down toned thighs and bites at the soft swell of Jen’s abdomen. She’s so goddamned hot, her age showing in the graying hairs at her temples, the delicate skin of her belly and the faded stretch marks from bringing the boys into the world, her hips widened and stomach soft. Judy tries to communicate her reverence, paying out her adoration in the form of kisses. 

“Judy.” Jen whispers, insistent, and there are tears pooling at the corners of her eyes when she bucks her hips against nothing, begging wordlessly for more.

Judy’s flooded with a heady warmth, so persistent she feels it at the tips of the fingers she’s pressing into Jen’s hips, tingling at her lips and flowing through her toes. There aren’t words to describe this love, this _devotion,_ so instead she kisses down Jen’s abs and through the soft hairs at her apex until she reaches her lips, parting them with her tongue, holding Jen open with her thumbs so she can put her whole mouth on Jen’s cunt. 

Jen lowers herself fully onto Judy’s waiting mouth and her loud groan fills the room before it’s muffled, and Judy looks up to see Jen’s own hand clamped at her mouth, her eyes shut tight as she whimpers behind it. This view, Judy thinks, is maybe the best she’s ever seen; the wiry curls of Jen’s pubic hair dark with her wetness, the soft planes of her abdomen lined in silvery scars, the proud underside of her tits still wrapped in black lace and Jen’s face contorted by pleasure and muted with her own hand. Judy moans into her, presses harder circles with the tip of her tongue, flicking back and forth in sync with the rock of Jen’s hips against her face. 

Jen is so much more responsive than Judy could have imagined, _had_ imagined, actually, on quite a few occasions. But this Jen is real and sticky-hot and bucking into Judy’s mouth, this Jen is fisting Judy’s hair and grasping blindly at the headboard to steady herself against. She’s loud, and reactive, and Judy can’t help but clench her thighs rhythmically while Jen fucks herself on her tongue. Judy moans again into Jen’s center and the vibration, the reverberation of Judy’s own pleasure is what sets Jen off. She shrieks, a shrill noise offered up to the ceiling in praise of Judy’s touch as she comes jerkily against her face, Jen’s hand grabbing at her hair and pushing her hips hard into Judy’s face, chasing her pleasure selfishly for the last frantic seconds. She’s rough, covering Judy’s nose and chin; she loves being used like this, allowing someone to take pleasure in her body like this. Three firm rocks of Judy’s hips, thighs squeezed tightly together, are all it takes for her to follow Jen over the edge, trying to hide her own pleasured whines in Jen’s cunt while her hips rock languidly against Judy’s mouth. 

Hot, erratic pants fill the air as Jen’s body collapses heavy beside her, shaking. Judy takes a few deep breaths of air, before she tucks trembling fingers under Jen’s shoulders to pull their bodies closer, hiding her face in Jen’s neck and feeling as the last shivers of orgasm fizzle out of their muscles.

“I love you too, Jen. I love you so much.” She whispers, lips to Jen’s ear. They’re both trembling now with the weight of their admissions, sobs and laughter intertwined shaking their ribs, tears streaming down their faces as they kiss.

Judy drifts, in and out, as they lay side by side sharing languid kisses and soft touches in the dark. Next time she’s really aware of reality, it’s the sound of the shower handle creaking and then Jen is standing over her, hand outstretched, helping her up and out of bed and leading her into the steamy bathroom. She wakes up a little when Jen reaches behind herself to unclasp her bra, letting it fall down her shoulders and catch at her elbows, arms held self-consciously at her waist. Judy breathes, in awe at the sight of Jen bared for her like this, her scars on display. Jen’s made herself vulnerable, _for Judy,_ and the words just tumble from her then.

_God, Jen, you’re beautiful. I can’t believe I get to see you like this. You’re so, so gorgeous. I wish you could see yourself through my eyes right now._

And god she looks beautiful; sex-mussed hair and smudged makeup, skin glowing with sweat and dewy from the shower steam, the smooth scar tissue high on her breasts a reminder of how committed Jen is to her boys, to their family.

Jen smiles back, tears in her eyes again as she drops her arms and bares herself to Judy’s gaze before grabbing her hands and pulling her into the shower and underneath the spray. Judy groans in satisfaction at the hot water washing away the sweat and stickiness; she runs her fingers through her hair until it’s saturated and Jen is behind her, squeezing shampoo into her hands and massaging it into Judy’s scalp. Judy sighs at the slight scrape of Jen’s fingernails against her head as she washes the hair clean of shampoo and works in conditioner. It’s nearly maternal in a way Judy’s never experienced and she gives in to the sensuality, luxuriating in the feeling of being taken care of in this way. 

Judy’s excited already about the next part, the bit where they wake up beside each other and everything is out in the open. They love each other, they want each other and there can be a life for them together now as a family, finally, after going through so much. The same thing that had torn her and Steve apart, had brought her and Jen together, forged their bond in fire and she felt like they could handle anything now as long as they were together. 

Jen starts to rinse the shampoo from her hair, bubbles chasing each other down her limbs and Jen’s arms wrap themselves around her, just pulling her in close as the warm water washes over them. 

“God, I fucking love you.”

“I fucking love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> we're so sorry
> 
> (shoutout to everyone who helped you know who you are ❤️)


End file.
